To Live Is To Die
by Lioness-Goddess
Summary: An AU of All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2 and the events after it. The demon refuses to make a deal with Dean, and Sam stays dead. A year later, Dean begins to see his brother’s ghost everywhere. Rated to be safe.
1. Prologue

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white, and the leather of the wheel let out a soft sq

A/N: Hi there – this isn't my first Supernatural fic, (it's actually my second!) but it is my first one that isn't a one shot, so let's hope it goes well! I'm usually in the Ninja Turtles fandom, but I discovered Supernatural a few months back and was hooked hooked hooked! Anyway, I know this is short, but don't worry, it's just the prologue. Chapter 1 will be up shortly.

Summary: An AU of All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2 and the events after it. The demon refuses to make a deal with Dean, and Sam stays dead. Suddenly Dean begins to see his brother's ghost everywhere.

PROLOGUE

Dean's hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white, and the leather of the wheel let out a soft squeak of protest as his grip increased. Dean's eyes never left the road as the Impala sped along the highway. He needed to find the nearest crossroads, and fast.

Sam was dead.

Dean had refused to accept it. He'd nearly driven himself crazy searching for his brother, and finally found him at some deserted town. As soon as he'd clapped eyes on Sam, the son of a bitch in army fatigues had come up behind his little brother and stabbed him.

He hadn't even had time to warn him.

Cradling Sam in his arms, he'd inspected the wound, insisting to his brother that the injury "wasn't that bad."

Dean had been lying to himself as well as Sam. He'd known the wound was fatal – he could tell just by the location. There was no way the knife hadn't gotten his spinal cord. He hadn't been able to protect his brother, and now Sam was dead. Half crazed, Dean could think of only one solution.

Dust flew into the air as the Impala's wheels crunched gravel. Dean pulled the car to the side of the road, got out, and walked to the center of the crossroads. He dropped to his knees and began to frantically dig into the dust. Gravel scraped his dust-powdered palms – he ignored it, and carefully re-covered the small box filled with his personal items with the dry dirt.

Getting to his feet, he looked around him. He was alone.

"Oh come on already!" He was not in the mood to play waiting games.

"Calm down sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."

A young woman stood behind him, arms crossed. Eyes flashed red for a moment, and she gave him a winning smile.

After making some smart-ass demon comments about his family that Dean wasn't in the mood for, she finally got to the point of him summoning her.

"Following in Daddy's footsteps…giving up your soul."

"There's a hundred demons that all want their hands on it, and it's all yours. All you gotta do is bring Sam back – bring him back and I get ten years."

"You must be kidding."

"It's the same deal you give everyone else…"

"You're not everyone else."

Dean stared at her. He could feel the shift in the conversation where he'd just lost the upper hand.

A distant part of his brain idly thought stage six: bargaining.

"Nine years."

"No."

"Eight."

"Keep going, I'll keep saying no."

Dean took a deep breath. "Five years. That's my last offer. Five years or no deal."

The demon leaned in. Dean could feel her breath on his lips – he knew the way crossroads demons preferred to seal the deal, and his pulse quickened. He was going to get Sammy back. He leaned in, and the demon suddenly pulled away.

"Then no deal." And she disappeared.

Dean dropped to his knees.

-

Dean sat in an armchair, his chin propped on his hand as he stared at his brother. Nearly every emotion there was in existence had torn through him in the past hour, and now he just felt numb.

His father was gone. Sam was dead. Dean's worst fear had been realized – he was alone.

Sure, there was Bobby, but the old hunter couldn't take the place of John Winchester, and especially couldn't take Sam's place. No one could.

Dean felt a pang as he realized anyone he would notify about Sam's death who didn't know already was dead. He wondered if there would even be anyone to bury him when he died. Somehow, he doubted it. That thought hurt almost as much as losing Sam. Almost.

Sighing, Dean wound his hands together as he thought. He felt bad for screaming Bobby out of the house. He'd seen the hurt in Bobby's eyes as he left, but he'd also seen understanding. Dean had no doubt Bobby would forgive him soon enough, but for now th other hunter knew enough to leave him alone.

A few hours later, Dean emerged from the house, holding Sam's body carefully shrouded in a sheet. Carrying his brother was difficult as Sam had stood so much taller than him. Thankfully Dean only had to struggle with the awkward load for a few feet, until he gently laid his brother on the back seat of the Impala.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Dean rested his forehead on the steering wheel, glancing over to the passenger side. It was almost impossible to believe Sam would never sit there again.

Dean let out a sigh and turned the car on.

-

The wind whipped through the large empty field, and the sun was beginning to set as Dean finished building the pyre. Sam was going to be cremated – no way in hell was Dean going to leave his brother's body to possibly be damaged or defiled by anyone or anything.

He stood back for a few moments, almost afraid to do it. Finally he tossed a match onto the lighter-fluid soaked wood he'd built the pyre out of.

As he watched what was left of Sam burn, a few tears slipped down Dean's face. Angrily he wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket.

"I swear, Sam…" he said, his voice hoarse, "I will track down every single thing there is to hunt out there, and kill the sons of bitches. Including the asshole who killed you – and the yellow-eyed demon. They're all going down."

Dean looked up at the stars that were just starting to peep out, and clenched his fists. "All of them."


	2. Chapter 1

Jane Howard's heels clicked on the asphalt of her driveway as she approached her Subaru

A/N: Okay, I'm not really sure why, but for some reason the first sentence of my chapters seem to appear above my author's note, even when I don't put them there…I'm not sure how to fix that exactly, so I apologize for any confusion until I figure it out.

Thank you to the two people who reviewed – you're my favorites!

Chapter 2 coming soon.

CHAPTER 1

ONE YEAR LATER

Jane Howard's heels clicked on the asphalt of her driveway as she approached her Subaru. There was a faint buzzing in the pocket of her dress slacks, and she pulled out her cell phone, smiling as she saw she had a new text message. She had an inkling of who it was. Sure enough Kyle's name was shown on the screen as soon as she flipped it open. Her smile grew as she read the message. She had just been going to meet Kyle for dinner, but his text suggested they do something else a little later at his apartment – something that had a much more relaxed dress code than the restaurant they were going to.

Glancing back toward her house, she confirmed all the lights were off. Her husband had put the kids to bed hours ago, and he had gone not long after, complaining he had an early day at the office tomorrow and for her not to wake him up when she came to bed.

Opening the driver's side door of the Subaru, Jane slid in, feeling the cold leather against her exposed shoulders. She gave an excited little shiver, and began to back out of the driveway. She paused at the mailbox, giving a small cough. She waited a moment longer, then shrugged, figuring the cough had merely come from the shock of the cold upholstery against her bare skin.

Not one block down the road she coughed again, harder this time, but continued on. A little cough she could deal with. She'd just ask for some cough syrup when she got to Kyle's.

Jane stopped at a red light, her fingers drumming impatiently on the wheel. This late at night no one was on the road but her. The coughing started again. This time it didn't stop. She fumbled at the seat belt as she struggled to get her breath, and practically fell out of the car. She fell to her knees onto the road, coughing uncontrollably. Blood spattered onto the ground. She took one horrified look at it, and then Jane Howard's heart stopped beating.

-

"What can I get for yah hun?"

Dean blinked and looked up. He'd been spacing out. "Huh?"

The waitress snapped her gum in an irritated manner. "What can I get for yah?"

"Oh, uh…" Dean took a quick glance at the menu in front of him. "Eggs and a side of bacon with coffee'll be fine."

The waitress gave him an answering snap of gum and sauntered off to place the order. Dean watched her go feeling oddly detached. Why was it diner waitresses were never hot? Maybe it was the powder blue uniforms most of them seemed to wear. Even Angelina Jolie would look horrible in that.

Forcing his mind to get back on track, Dean returned his attention to the newspaper spread across the cheap fake-marble table. More specifically, to an article near the bottom of the front page, so tiny it hardly warranted notice.

The headline proclaimed:

30 Year Old Nutritionist Dies of Heart Failure

Nothing too unusual about that. People died of heart failure all the time, no matter their age. It was the nutritionist part that had gotten Dean. Most nutritionists he'd ever come across were the pinnacle of health, only eating earthy crunchy food and only dating earthy crunchy guys. Dean usually stayed away from nutritionists.

Though a nutritionist dying of a heart attack was unusual, it wasn't other-worldly unusual. It was a long shot, but Dean was going to take it. It had been too long since his last hunt. He'd been tracking the yellow-eyed demon along the way, but recently the trail had gone cold. He figured he might as well do some recreational hunting until he could pick the trail back up again and kill the bastard. He hadn't forgotten his promise to Sam.

A slight lump in his throat formed at the thought of his brother, but he pushed it down. It had taken him a long, long time, but he'd finally accepted Sam's death.

While Sam lingered in his mind, Dean took another glance at the newspaper. He wasn't really sure what to do first – talk to the husband of the deceased nutritionist, or look into the nutritionist's life himself and dig up any skeletons in her closet.

If Sam had been here they could have done both at once…

Again Dean pushed the thought out of his mind with a quiet curse. He needed to concentrate on this hunt.

He stared at the newsprint. Underneath the headline he was investigating was a black and white picture of the husband. There was a forlorn look in his eyes that Dean could understand – he'd probably worn it himself both when his father and when Sam died.

The husband's eyes stared back at Dean, frozen in the picture, unblinking. Beginning to space out, Dean's gaze remained locked on the picture. The black background of the picture seemed to get darker, if that was even possible. The husband swam before his eyes, seemingly morphing.

Dean leaned closer, refusing to blink – if he didn't know better, he'd swear he was staring at a picture of Sam. He put it down to a trick of the light.

And then Sam winked at him.

Dean reared back, breathing hard. He snatched up the newspaper and held it close to his face. The picture was the same as it had been, the husband of the nutritionist staring back at him with that forlorn gaze.

Beginning to calm down, Dean ran a hand over his face, glancing back at the picture every few seconds. It stayed the same. He hadn't seen Sam in the picture. It was just a trick, brought on by the fact he'd been thinking about his brother.

That's what he told himself, but he didn't believe it.

-

Robert Howard was making lunch for his kids when the doorbell rang. He frowned as he wiped his hands on a nearby dishtowel and headed for the door. All of the neighbors had already come by to offer their condolences, and the police involvement had been thankfully brief. Now he just wanted to spend some quiet time alone, but it seemed he wouldn't be able to do that just yet.

The man standing on the porch offered a smile as he opened the door. He was wearing a State Trooper uniform. Robert was tempted to ask, 'aren't you a little short for a State Trooper?' but the temptation passed, and instead asked, "Yes?"

"Mr. Howard," the man said, taking out a notebook. "I just want to ask you some questions about the death of your wife."

"What?" Robert's frown grew deeper. "The police were already here."

"Yes, I know that sir, but it's procedure to come back with follow up questions."

"Really?"

"Yes sir."

Robert sighed and opened the door wider, a silent invitation. The State Trooper stepped inside and Robert lead him to the kitchen.

"I was just making lunch for my kids," Robert said, explaining the mess the counters were in.

"Must be hard for them" the Trooper said, "to lose their mother so suddenly."

"The young ones are okay," Robert replied. "I mean, they're upset, but they're handling it well. I'm worried about my oldest."

The State Trooper looked interested at that. "Oh? How come?"

"She just…doesn't seem to care," Robert sighed. "All she does is sit in her room. She hasn't cried once, or even seemed upset at all. I'm putting it down to shock."

"Yes, well, sometimes people have delayed reactions to these things. So about your wife…"

Robert sighed inwardly. These police guys and their one track minds. "It was a real shock."

"The reports say she died of a heart attack."

"That's right."

"But she had no previous health issues?"

"None." Robert shook his head. "That's why it was so shocking. She was healthy as a horse. Always had been. Ate well, exercised. I don't get it."

"Right." The Trooper made a note. "Did she say anything strange to you before she died?"

Robert looked confused. "Strange? Like how?"

"Anything…anything out of the ordinary?"

"No. Everything was fine – I went to bed early, she was still downstairs, and then in the morning…she was in the street, dead."

"What was she doing in the street?"

Robert shrugged. "I assumed she was on her way to work."

"I see." The Trooper made another note, then looked up. "Is there any way I could talk to your oldest daughter?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Robert folded his arms. "This is a traumatic time for her – for all of us."

"Of course. Well, thanks for your time."

-

As soon as he was clear of the house, Dean pulled the State Trooper hat off, scratching at his head. Those freaking hats always made his head itch something fierce.

There was definitely a clue in the older daughter. Something wasn't quite right with the behavior her father described.

It didn't seem likely that he would be able to get to talk to her today though, so Dean headed to the hospital instead. Maybe there would be something in Jane Howard's medical records that would be a good clue, or maybe someone in the hospital would know her. It was a small town after all, it was likely a nurse or doctor would know her, or at least know of her.

Dean hopped into the Impala and leaned forward to adjust the mirror. He froze. Staring back at him was Sam.

He whipped around, staring into the backseat. Nothing. Looking back at the mirror, Sam was still there. Another check in the backseat yielded that it was still empty. As Dean looked back at the mirror for the third time, Sam gave him a quick smile, then was gone.

Dean sat with his jaw hanging open, his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Was he going completely insane? There was no way he could be seeing his brother. He'd burned the body.

But the person he'd seen in the newspaper picture and in his mirror was unmistakably Sam.


	3. Chapter 2

Dean sat motionless in the Impala, staring at the car's mirror

A/N: I am terribly sorry for the slight delay on this chapter – I had to move out of my dorm room and come home for the summer, as well as look for a summer job, which can be rather time consuming. I'm still looking for a job, but the moving is done at least, so the story can be updated more often now. As always, thank you thank you thank you to all who review. I love you all!

CHAPTER 2

Dean sat motionless in the Impala, staring at the car's mirror. His brother's image had disappeared a while ago, but Dean was still having trouble accepting it had been there at all.

Sam was dead.

That was all there was to it, wasn't there? Dean racked his brain, trying to think of some reason Sam would still be hanging around. Sometimes there was an object that tied a spirit down somewhere.

Dean dismissed that idea quickly. Being a hunter required having few belongings, considering the amount of moving around it required. Sam didn't have much – his clothes, his backpack, his computer. None of that seemed important enough to Sam that it would cause him to hang around even after death.

Unfinished business was a more likely reason. They had more unfinished business that Dean could keep track of. But it had been a whole year. Why would Sam choose now to show up if he had unfinished business? And Dean had burned his brother's body with rock salt. Ghosts had rules and guidelines – none of this made any sense.

Dean sighed and lightly bumped his head on the steering wheel. He would have never thought it possible, but since Sam died, life had become a lot harder.

-

"Excuse me."

The secretary looked up from her typing – a good looking man stood in front of her. She gave him a smile. "How can I help you?"

He dropped a badge in front of her face, then had it put away before she'd had a good chance to look at it. "I'm from the medical assistance center. I need to see Jane Howard's records."

"Sure," the secretary typed a few things on the computer, then hit print. She handed the file over to the man.

"Thanks."

She looked up at him and gave him her most winning smile. "You can look at my files later if you want."

"Uh." The man looked surprised, then winked at her. "Sure – when I'm off duty."

Dean left shaking his head. He would never see that broad again – might as well make her feel good though. He did miss sex. After Sam, it had just seemed wrong somehow.

As he glanced at the files, Dean wondered if maybe it was time to get his life completely back to normal again. Of course he couldn't do that with his brother's ghost following him around.

That would be an awkward date. 'Hi, I'm Dean, this is my brother. Oh yeah, he's dead.' What a turn on that would be.

Dean flopped onto a bench right outside the hospital to take a closer look at the file. Everything seemed pretty standard. Birth date, blood type, no record of heart trouble, emergency contact…

He stopped and took a closer look at the emergency contact. It was listed as Kyle Beren. That was a bit odd, considering her husband's name was Robert.

Thinking back, Dean remembered Robert Howard had told him he'd found his wife sprawled in the road next to her car, and assumed she was going to work.

"Maybe she wasn't going to work," he muttered to himself. Looked like the next thing to do was talk to this Kyle Beren.

-

"Sharon, hi," Kyle smiled as he pulled open his door and saw the blonde standing on his front porch. "Wasn't expecting you today."

"Gary had to go into work today – boss called in an emergency." She smiled hopefully at him. "So can I come in?"

"Uh." Kyle looked behind himself. "It's not a good time right now."

Sharon's mouth pulled into a pout. "It's my husband's only day off!"

"It's not a good time," Kyle repeated. He put on a disarming grin and drew her into a hug. "You can come back tonight…I'll have something special for you…"

The blonde tried to keep up her angry appearance, but her pout melted into a smile. "Alright. I'll be back at midnight."

"Perfect." Kyle waved her off the porch, then turned back into his house.

"So where were we?" He asked the human corpse spread out on his floor.

-

Dean dumped his car keys on the motel bedside table, annoyed. He'd gone to Kyle Beren's house and knocked on the door and rang the doorbell multiple times, to no answer. He would've broken in, except while he was standing on the front porch he'd heard the man in question moving around.

So Kyle Beren had been home – he just hadn't answered the door. To Dean, that was like painting your house with a sign that said, "Hi! I'm a suspect!"

He rubbed at his head. A headache was starting to form – most likely because he hadn't eaten all day. He'd seen a Burger King not too far from the motel. Dean turned for the door, then fell backwards onto the bed.

Sam was sitting in the chair near the TV, leaning slightly forward, arms on knees, just like he used to.

"Sam?" Dean said softly.

His brother looked up at him and smiled, but it was a sad smile. He cocked his head, hazel eyes soft.

Dean took a small step towards him. "Why do you keep showing up?"

Sam looked frustrated, then disappeared. The TV he'd been sitting next to suddenly flickered on, and began changing channels quickly. Finally it settled on a local news spot.

A reporter stood in front of a high school, frozen smile in place. "I'm reporting from Lincoln High School, where five girls are pulling an all night vigil, protesting a current policy the school put into place where they are no longer allowed to sit with their friends at lunch."

The reporter turned to a short brunette girl holding a sign. "How long are you planning to stay out here?"

"All night," she said viciously.

"And what's your name?"

"Danielle Howard."

Dean's jaw dropped. This was it – that was the girl he needed to talk to earlier – the late Jane Howard's daughter.

And now he knew where she was going to be all night.

"Thanks Sammy," he said quietly as he left the motel.

-

Danielle Howard sat on a metal rail leading up to her school's entrance chatting with her friends. Her pink wool sweater was pulled around her skinny frame, warding off the biting chill of night. The picket sign she'd made rested at her feet. She glanced up as she heard the quick crunching of footsteps on gravel.

"Who is it?" One of her friends asked.

Another stood up, squinting into the darkness. "Dunno – a cop?"

Sure enough a man in a State Trooper uniform approached them. He quickly flashed his badge.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Danielle asked, slightly proud of the catty tone in her voice. She and her friends had every right to protest peacefully in front of the school.

"No, not with the protest. I like protests. Keep…protesting," the guy smiled at her. "But there is a problem."

Danielle frowned and folded her arms, waiting.

"See…um…" the guy looked around, obviously looking for something he could pin on them. "That!" He pointed at an empty cheeseburger wrapper fluttering around nearby.

"A cheeseburger wrapper?"

"Yeah. Uh, it's littering. That's illegal."

"No, it's not."

"I meant it's illegal in China. You ever been there? Nice, but strict laws on littering. Really strict." He grinned again, obviously aware he was sinking.

Danielle raised an eyebrow at him. "China."

"Yeah."

"You're not a cop, are you."

The guy grimaced, and lightly grabbed her arm, pulling her off the rail she'd been sitting on.

"Hey!"

"It's okay, really." He took his hand off her, and Danielle yanked her arm back. "I just need to talk to you."

"About littering?" She sneered at him.

The man fidgeted for a moment, then said, "No. About your late mother."

Danielle was surprised. "How'd you know about…?"

"Don't worry about it. Just answer the questions. Please."

She considered him for a moment, then said curtly, "Fine."

He pulled her away from her friends, into a more secluded area. The friends ignored them, going back to chatting.

"You're right, I'm not a cop. My name's Dean – I can't really tell you why I'm asking, you wouldn't believe me anyway. But answering these questions will really help a lot."

For a moment Danielle wondered if this was a ploy to murder her. After all, her friends weren't looking and they were in a dark area.

But Dean – if that was actually his name – didn't make any moves, and instead asked, "Was your mom going to work when she died?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"She was cheating on my dad."

Dean didn't look too surprised about that. "And how do you know that?"

"She told me."

This time Dean did look surprised. Danielle folded her arms. Her mother had never been one to keep secrets – in fact she was the town gossip. So when she began cheating on Danielle's father, Danielle and her father were the first to know. The only one who didn't know was her little sister, who was too young to understand anyway.

Danielle's father had tried to pretend that it was just a phase, that everything was going to go back to normal eventually. Danielle had known better – she'd seen the divorce papers in the kitchen the night before her mother died.

"So – you think your mom was going to see this guy when she died?"

Danielle nodded.

"Do you know his name?"

"Uh – Kyle…something."

Dean's mind raced back to the hospital report. Emergency contact, Kyle Beren. Perfect.

"Thanks," he said to Danielle. "You've helped a lot." He glanced back to her waiting friends. "Have fun protesting."

As soon as the teenager had rejoined her friends, Dean hurried back to the Impala, checking his watch. Nearly eleven p.m. Perfect – he was going to pay Kyle Beren another visit.


End file.
